True Superman
by kenxepe
Summary: This short story is based on the Truth story arc in DC comics. Superman has lost his Kryptonian uniform, along with many of his super powers. He is a semi-retired superhero, who is on an adventure to discover the world he has fought so long and hard to protect, while still helping whenever he can. Except this time, at greater risk to himself.


True Superman

by

Kenxepe

1\. The Rush

Clark groans as he struggles, pushing his broken motorcycle uphill. Couldn't fix it. Didn't even know what was wrong with it. His Pa had always told him, "You gotta know what the problem is first, Clark. Then you can fix it." Bruce would know. Bruce is the smarter one.

A few hours ago, he had been riding his bike on a wide, dirty, dimly lit, empty road, tall pine trees on either side, in the middle of the night. Heading where? Hell, he didn't know. He was just enjoying the ride. The cold, dark, dreary, lonely landscape is depressing.

But not for him. Not tonight. Why? No super-hearing. Of all his old super powers, it was probably the one he misses the least. Back then, he could hear everything. Everything! Every pained scream, every wail of despair, every cry for help. And of course, he would respond. Throw off the glasses, rip open his shirt, and fly off to save the day like he always used to. But see, the problem with that set up is that, even with super speed, he can't save everybody. He can hear everybody who needs saving, but he'll never be able to save them all. So he chooses. And saving one person, usually means failing to save another. Or even several others. And he will hear them all. He will hear the fading, dying voices of those he had failed to save.

But not tonight.

Tonight, devoid of super-hearing, the only sound Clark could hear was the hum of his motorcycle's engine. Literally, it was the only sound he could hear. He momentarily wondered why he couldn't hear even a single chirp from a cricket or a bird. Then he felt a pang of guilt. Just because he couldn't hear people crying for help, didn't mean they weren't there. But he quickly pushes the guilt away, and continued to enjoy his reverie. Feeling guilty wouldn't miraculously restore his super powers. Besides, moping didn't suit him. And the League already had one brooder. Hardly needed another.

Now flying, that is another matter. He misses flying immensely. Well, it had its downside, too. It was the power that made him most different, most...alien. It was the power that made him seem like a god to many. Maybe a demon to a few. But still...there was an unmatched freedom to flying. Your whole body in contact with nothing but air. Cold wind in your face and hair. He wanted to recapture that feeling. So he went full throttle.

The engine roared. Clark leaned forward, and the bike flew. Well,...not exactly. But pretty close to it. The result was amazing! Exciting! Thrilling! It wasn't at all like the freedom and the calmness of flying. It was quite the opposite, actually. This was a rush of adrenaline! He wasn't as invulnerable as he used to be! He could genuinely,...possibility...get seriously hurt here!

And so he did.

He hit something,...or did something hit him? He wasn't sure. All he knows is the bike pitched forward, he was violently thrown off of it, and then the whole world started spinning wildly several times before his eyes. His body painfully bounced off the pavement, catapulted off the road, and into the trees, where he rolled over and over on his side, until he finally came to a stop on the vegetation below. Then darkness.

When Clark dizzily opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were the stars. He had no idea of how much time had passed. It was still night, so probably not a lot.

"Oh, right. The accident," he told himself, still feeling slightly disoriented.

The wind was knocked out of him. His head was hurting. Probably hit it somewhere...or everywhere, that is,...and his body felt like it had sustained several minor injuries like small cuts, and bruises. He wouldn't have minded lying there motionless on the cool, comfortable grass for a few more seconds...or hours. But at that moment, his biggest concern was-

"My bike!" he screams, bolting upright.

He quickly gets to his still wobbly feet, and starts to scan his surroundings.

"Right," he said in dismay. "No X-ray vision."

Looking around, he spotted the road fence barrier above him, and slowly crawled his way back up to the street. Only once over the steel barrier, and on the pavement did he realize just how far down he had fallen off the road. An average man would have been killed for sure. But Clark, even with his powers significantly reduced, is still far from average. After a few short minutes of searching, he found what he was looking for lying on its side. It seemed OK except for four long scratch marks running along the surface of the tank that made him wince.

He searched the area for what he had hit. If it had been an animal, he would have to put it out of its misery. His body shuddered at the thought, and he prayed that he had hit a fallen tree trunk or some other inanimate object. But he found nothing.

He pulled the bike back on its wheels, and hopped on, then pressed the start button. Nothing. He pressed it again, and applied the throttle a little to get the engine going. Still nothing.

"Guess who's feelin' like an idiot now?" he shamefully told himself.

And so Clark began his trek uphill, pushing his broken motorbike alongside him.

2\. The Fear

He feels like he's been walking for hours, and still no sign of civilization, or even at least a passing car.

"And still no birds or crickets," he wonders to himself.

He strains his eyes at the distance, then laughs at himself for trying to access his non-existent telescopic vision. So the trudging continues. He'd be sweating by now if it wasn't so damn chilly. He could see his breath, and even with his red jacket zipped all the way up, it offered very little protection from the cold bite of the wind. Just when he begins to give up hope, and go back the way he came, he notices a bright white light just over the horizon. Light that is undoubtedly man made!

Adrenaline takes hold. Weariness leaves him, and he quickens his pace.

"It's a sign," he realizes. "A gas station's electronic sign. With a mini-mart!"

Only now does he notice how hungry, how thirsty, how tired he truly is. Sensations that are quite new, but not altogether unwelcome, to this de-powered former superhero. After all, hunger makes food taste better. Thirst makes drink more satisfying. And tiredness makes falling asleep easier.

"I'm not even gonna be picky," he tells himself, breathing heavily. "I'll eat whatever they have. Heck, I grew up in a farm. I'd have eaten a grasshopper, if I had found one on the way here."

When he is close enough, he leans the bike (actually almost drops it) against...something. He isn't sure what. Probably a lamp post. He no longer cares.

Turns out, the gas station is actually a privatized commercial rest area with a filling station, a convenience store, and what appears to be a small home.

"Not surprising," Clark thinks. "This place is in the middle of nowhere. Nearest town miles away. Makes sense for the owner to just make his residence here. What does it matter, Clark? You're about to faint. Just get some food."

He goes to the convenience store, and tries to push the glass door open, but finds it locked.

"What's up with this?" he wonders, almost angrily, to himself.

He peers through the glass. All the lights are on, but nobody seems to be inside.

"Hello?" he calls out, then lightly raps at the glass surface of the door. "Hello! Anybody in there?!"

No response. He notices movement at the corner of his eye. A woman, fearfully hiding herself from behind the curtain of the house's large window, was cautiously squinting at him. Clark walks towards the window. He has that decent, friendly, Christian, nonthreatening, farm boy air about him that usually makes people feel comfortable. Even with his new bad-ass marine haircut, he still doesn't seem like a troublemaker. He actually comes off as a good ol' soldier boy, comin' back home after years of service overseas. Which isn't very far from the truth, now that he's lost the tights, and turned his back on fightin' time-travelin' robot alien invaders. So it surprised him a little when the woman took a frightful step back, and cowered even further under the cover of the window's green curtain.

"Ma'am," he greets her with a warm smile and a nod. "You the owner?"

The sound of his voice seems to have calmed her a little, and she slowly comes out from behind her protective curtain. It was fortunate, that while his throat was dry, he didn't sound hoarse and scary. She was an elderly woman with blond hair that was becoming gray, Clark notices. Still pretty, and a little skinny.

"We're closed," she answers meekly.

"But...but the lights are all still on," he protests a little desperately, motioning to the convenience store.

"I'm sorry," she replies, genuinely sounding apologetic. "You best get on that bike o' yers and head on to the next town s'fast as y'can."

"Please, ma'am. I'm not a troublemaker, I swear. My ride's busted. I don't know what's wrong with it. I been walkin' for hours. I just need some food and drink, and a mechanic to look at the bike. I have money..."

He did, actually. But not a lot. Not since he got fired from the Daily Planet, after the world found out that Clark Kent was an alien in disguise. He probably had enough for a sandwich, and a bottle of mineral water. Definitely not enough to have the bike repaired.

"Show her the S," he tells himself. "She'll give you everything you need for free, if she knows who you really are. Not like it's a secret anymore, anyway."

But Clark, as starved as he is, resists the urge. He just isn't comfortable with the idea of using his celebrity to take advantage of people, and get freebies. His parents raised him to be more honorable than that.

Just then, the curtain is suddenly drawn back, and a tall, old man in blue overalls appears from behind it. He is pointing a sawed-off shotgun right at Clark!

"She said we're closed!" the man shouts at Clark, trembling finger on the trigger.

"Whoa!" Clark exclaims, raising both hands chest high, palms forward, to show that he is unarmed.

Even in his weakened condition, the shotgun will do minimal damage to Clark. It would sting. Knock the wind out of him a little. Maybe even throw him back a few steps. Might throw him off his feet since he's so tired and hungry. But what concerns Clark the most is, should the slugs bounce off his chest and back towards the window, the people behind it could get seriously injured or even killed! Super powers or not, it has always been Clark's nature to worry about others first, and himself last.

"John!" the woman exclaims in disbelief. "You stop pointing that there gun at that young man this instant!"

"It's your own fault, Marie! Damn your nosiness!" he snaps back, glancing at her while keeping the gun on the young stranger. "If you just hid like I told you to, he'd a' just kept goin'!"

"That's what I told him! He can't! His bike's busted or somethin'!"

"It's true," Clark confirms.

But his sudden response startles John. The old man's grip tightens around the weapon, and he very nearly pulls the trigger. The gun doesn't go off, but both he and Clark momentarily hold their breaths.

"Don't surprise me like that, boy. I almost shot you!"

"Sorry," Clark replies, his hands still up.

"Pa, you gotta let 'em in!" a new voice from inside calls out to John.

Clark sees that it's a young woman in blue jeans, and a white shirt with the long sleeves rolled up her forearms. She is possibly the older woman's daughter given their similarities in appearance.

Clark then notices other things inside the room, like how the sofa was blocking the back door, or how the windows have been boarded up, and that they had already started to get some work done on this one between them.

Then Clark figures it out.

"I'm not the one they're afraid of."

3\. The Pain

"We can't help him," John tells his wife, and daughter. Then he turns apologetic eyes towards Clark. "He's dead already."

"We can't just do nothing-!" his daughter begins to angrily protest.

"I can't open the door for him, Katie! It could get in here! You saw how fast that thing is! What it did to Paul!"

"Paul is...the dog?" Clark guesses.

"Paul is ma' brother in law."

Marie puts her hands to her face, crouches, and suddenly bawls uncontrollably. Katie rushes to comfort her sobbing mother. John sadly looks at his family for a few seconds, then continues talking to Clark.

"He died savin' us. When the thing came,...he fought it off so that we could lock ourselves in here."

John isn't even staring at Clark anymore. Can't even see him. He is reliving the moment of Paul's gruesome death as he recounts it. And Clark can see the anguish in the older man's face.

"She tore 'em apart," John narrates, his lips quivering. "Just...just picked 'em up like he was nothin', y'know? And...and Paul,...he was a big man, too. But she just...she just... Blood. Aw, God, so much blood."

Clark scans the area.

"Where did this happen?" he asks.

The old man looks up in surprise, as if the sound of Clark's voice just woke him from a very bad dream.

"Right there...in front of the store," he answers, tilting his head once in that direction.

"I don't see any blood."

"I don't know what happened to the blood, OK?!" John wails in distress. "She was tearing him apart alive! Piece by piece! Limb by limb! We locked ourselves in here and huddled together. We couldn't look, but we could hear 'em. We could hear him screaming-!"

Clark remains quiet for a short moment, giving the old man time to calm down. Then he asks "Who did it to him?"

"Pa!" Katie suddenly screams.

Her mother utters a cry, and clutches her daughter tightly to her.

Clark turns his attention from the frightened faces of mother and child to whatever it is they were looking at. He sees a young woman with an almost grayish complexion standing in the middle of the road from the same direction he came in. Her hair was long and disheveled. She was wearing a dirty, tattered, sleeveless, short, white dress which may have been pretty once. It seemed like the kind of dress a young bride would wear. There were dry, reddish stains on it.

"Let him in, Pa!" Katie screams again. "Let him in right now!"

John looks at Clark, his face a mixture of fear and shame, then says "I can't."

Katie breaks free of her hysterical mother's grasp, and makes a run for the door, intent on opening it. Her father quickly wraps a strong arm around her slender waist to stop her.

"Let me go! Let me go!" she starts screaming.

"It's too late, Katie! It's too late!" her father whimpers, weeping in her blond hair.

Clark looks back at the road. The strange woman is no longer there.

She is standing right next to him.

Suddenly Clark finds himself flying through the air,...but not of his own will. Although for a split second he wondered if his superpowers had returned. They had not. The woman had struck him, or thrown him, or punched him,... He isn't sure.

"Is she faster than Barry?!" he asks himself in astonishment.

All he knows is, one moment, he was standing in front of a large glass window, a frightened family on the other side,...and on the very next he was soaring in the air, and then crashing into the trunk of a very large tree. The impact is so strong that its surface shatters into small splinters of wood, and Clark falls face first into the ground.

"Noooooooooooooo...! You let it kill him!" Katie voices her disappointment of her father.

"I had to, Katie. I had no choice-"

"Look," Marie says absently, pointing outside the window.

Outside, they see the young man move. He shakes his head, then slowly uses his arms to push himself back to his feet.

Clark recognizes the four long scratch marks that had torn the front of his jacket, and he realizes what had caused his motorcycle accident earlier. He hadn't hit anything. He was attacked! He unzips the ripped jacket, tosses it aside, and reveals the yellow, black, and red El family crest adorning his blue t-shirt.

"Holy shit," Katie gasps. "Is that...?"

The gray skinned creature tilts its head to the side, and eyes Clark curiously, as if intrigued at how its prey could still be alive.

Clark reaches into his jeans pocket, and takes out two pieces or red cloth. It's all he has left of what once was his signature cape.

"You wrecked my bike," he tells the creature. "That's real personal to a guy."

He dusts off the pieces of cloth once, and casually proceeds to tightly wrap one on each fist. Afterwards, he flexes his fingers, then punches his palms a couple of times. When he's ready, he goes into an orthodox semi-crouch boxer stance, and challenges the startled monster.

"Let's go."

4\. The Rage

The creature recovers from its confusion. It utters a shrill battle cry to the heavens, and then lunges once more at its prey. It is unbelievably fast, but Clark is ready for it this time. What would have been another scratch from long, sharp talons is interrupted by a powerful, straight, right counter punch to the monster's muzzle.

The beast staggers back, its nose broken and bloodied. Clark bounds forward, and follows up with a thunderous left hook to the side of the creature's face. Its head violently swings downward and to the side, which Clark catches with a mind shattering right uppercut!

Make no mistake, Clark Kent has indeed lost much of his power. Don't be expectin' him to be able to move the moon with his bare hands, and cause an eclipse. But that boy can damn well still throw down with the best of them.

The creature's limp form is catapulted upward. It defies gravity for a good few seconds before crashing back down to earth. A heavy downpour decides to join it.

Fight over.

Clark stares at the unconscious form before him, then starts to unwrap the cloth from his knuckles. He observes the demon's fresh blood on them, mixing with the dried blood of other recent enemies.

He contemplates "I should really wash these."

5\. The Choice

"Let me go," Katie tells her father softly, her eyes still fixated on the victorious former superhero.

This time, John doesn't stop her. Katie hurriedly unlocks the front door, and exits into the rain, forgetting to close the door behind her. She slowly walks towards Clark, seemingly unaware that both her hair and clothes are getting drenched. Clark sees her. He smiles, stands straight, and puts his fists to his hips. The pose that he was most known for during his heyday.

"Oh my gosh. It really is you, isn't it?" she asks, starstruck.

"It's me," Clark answers.

She takes another step forward,...then stops. The smile fades from her pretty face, and the fear returns to it.

Clark notices this,...but much too late. As he turns around to face his enemy once more, the revived creature swiftly buries four fingers of its right hand knuckle deep into his abdomen! Clark gasps. The beast's eyes are staring right into his. He actually sees no malice in those eyes. No hatred. Just what appears to be the thousand-yard stare.

Katie places her hands on her head, and starts screaming insanely.

"Katie!" her fearful father yells from the door frame. "Get back in here!"

But Katie can't hear him. Katie can't even hear the sound of her own screams. Can't even move from where she is standing. She has become a prisoner of her own fear.

Clark coughs out blood. His arms go limp beside him. The monster withdraws its bloodstained hand from his belly, and the once mighty hero collapses, falling on his side, and hitting the flooded pavement with a splash. The water around him begins to take a crimson color.

The creature slowly goes on its hands and knees, bent on finishing its downed foe. Its maw closes in on Clark's throat, and opens wide to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

Then it stops. Something else has caught its attention. The scent of the young woman standing in the street. Her blood smelled more...appetizing. Clark's blood smelled...strange to it. Not at all unsavory, but different. Alien. It stands, steps over her fallen opponent, and starts walking towards Katie.

"No!" John screams.

Even cowards become warriors when the lives of their children are at stake. He picks up the shotgun that he had laid by the windowsill, and exits through the front door.

As the creature nears, Katie regains her senses, and attempts to flee back into the safety of her home. But she cannot match the vile thing's inhuman speed. One second it was standing over Clark, and the very next it lifts Katie off the ground by the poor girl's neck in a grip of iron!

Katie takes hold of her attacker's wrist with both hands, then frantically starts kicking and wriggling in a futile attempt to break free. She tries to scream, but it gets caught in her throat. Completely helpless, all she could do is glare at her attacker as her vision starts to blur. She is shocked at how one of God's creatures could be so remorseless, so cruel as to kill her in such a slow, agonizing way. And she concludes that this being can't be a creation of God, but a creation of the Devil, himself!

But Katie would be wrong. This being that is trying to kill her now, does so without cruelty, or sadism. It isn't torturing her. It isn't receiving any joy or guilt from her pain. This being is simply killing her in a way that requires the least amount of effort. It recognized Clark as a threat, and therefore disposed of him quickly. She, on the other hand, is not threatening. What she is, is simply food.

"Put her down!" John commands, aiming at the monster's head.

"John, no! You'll hit Katie!" Marie screams at her husband.

She would be right, actually. And John knew she was right, as his wife very often is. At this distance, and with the weapon's wide spread of shot, not only will he possibly blow away the monster's head off, but probably a very large portion of his daughter's rib cage as well.

"Still," he considers, as he lowers his shotgun. "That thing is going to kill her anyway. She might survive the shotgun blast. Maybe life for my daughter as a handicap is not as bad as death."

And he takes aim, again.

Marie realizes what her husband plans to do, and screams again, "John, no!"

6\. The Hero

Clark is floating in and out of consciousness. He remembers getting impaled in the stomach. He doesn't remember falling. He vaguely remembers his enemy stepping over him, as it turns its attention to Katie.

"No. Get away from her..." he groans, and feebly tries to make a grab for the abomination's ankle.

He misses it by an inch, then he passes out.

He dreams about Diana. He dreams about her breaking through the storm clouds from above as she flies downward from the heavens, like a guided missile. He dreams about how she easily defeats the gray skinned monster with one punch. He dreams about her rescuing him and Katie's family. And then she would sit next to him in the muddy street, place his weary head on her lap, and gently stroke his hair. She would tell him that it's alright now. Everyone's safe, and he can rest.

Except it's not alright. People are in grave danger. And he can't rest. Not yet.

Diana is at Watchtower with the rest of the League. Right now they are probably fighting off an alien invasion, or a radioactive sea monster, or an army of giant robots. Even if they wanted to, the League has no time to save a small family from a lone, normal sized, not so super monster in the middle of nowhere. This just isn't their job. This is his job now. This is a job...for Superman!

7\. The Asshole

Katie's pupils start to roll upward. Her hands have gone limp. Her body, and legs are twitching. She is about to die. John is about to pull the trigger. The monster is about to feed.

Suddenly the front of Katie's white shirt is splattered with a dark liquid. The monster's hold loosens, and Katie falls to the ground. Her father rushes to catch her, but doesn't make it in time.

"Katie! Katie!" he screams, cradling her head.

He sees her blood on his palm. She had hit her head when she fell.

"Oh, God," he gasps. "Katie! Katie, wake up!"

Katie's eyes flutter open, then she immediately bolts into a sitting position, and starts coughing. Using her fingers, she gently feels her painful neck, which has dark marks left behind by the creature's tight grip.

The creature is confused. It feels weak. It looks down, and finds Clark's right fist protruding from its stomach.

"How do you like it?" he whispers into its ear, then he pulls out his arm, allowing the creature to fall into a pool of its own black blood.

Clark staggers backward a few steps. His tired and injured body is begging to shut down. But he knew he wasn't finished. Not yet. That thing will heal, and will be back to fighting form in a matter of minutes. He wont make the same mistake again. He has to end this.

He hoists the creature over his head with both arms, then starts walking shakily towards the window.

"Hey,..." John begins uneasily, still holding onto his daughter on the wet ground. "H-hey, what are you doing? Where are you going?!"

The monster revives. Initially disoriented, it quickly realizes what Clark is up to, and starts thrashing wildly! Clark doesn't panic. The creature's back is to him, and he is quite beyond the reach of its talons.

"Get back!" Clark shouts at Marie.

Marie, still inside, fearfully backs away.

"Young man, what do you think you're doing?" she demands. "Think long and hard before you do what you-"

Clark hurls the being right through the window, shattering both wood and glass! It falls heavily on the carpeted floor.

Marie starts screaming frantically, "Why did you do that?! You fucking killed me, you asshole! You super asshole! Super asshole is what they should be calling you! God will never forgive you for doing this to me, you super asshole! I hope you burn in hell for this! I hope you burn in hell, and Satan sticks a burning pitch fork right up your super-!"

"Ma?!" Katie calls out in disbelief, and quickly gets on her feet. "Ma, get out! Get out of the house!"

"Ah can't! This super asshole threw the monster right between me an' the fucking door!"

"You killed my wife," John gravely tells Clark, then whispers, "How can I ever repay you?"

The dazed monster, splinters of wood and shards of glass riddling its gray, bloodied skin, starts moving on the ground. Marie gasps, stops her tirade, and instantly becomes quiet. The creature, still on it's elbows and knees, rests its eyes on her, then slowly gets back on its feet.

"Pa, do something!" Katie begs her father.

"It's in God's hands now, darlin'."

"Pa, stop smiling!"

"I-I'm not. Just remembered somethin' funny is all."

The creature takes a step towards Marie. Marie shrinks into the corner of the room, and starts reciting the Lord's Prayer repeatedly. Then the creature stops. At first its body twitches, then shudders, then convulses violently. Dark blood gushes out of its different orifices.

Marie halts her prayer, and watches in silent shock, as the demon falls for the last time, and finally dies, if it was even really alive to begin with.

Katie covers her mouth with both hands, and breaks into tears. She quickly rushes back into the room, and into her mother's arms.

John walks over to Clark, and says, "So apparently that S on your chest is Kryptonian for false hope."

8\. The Savior

Clark wakes up in bed. Not his bed. It's too small for him. His legs are hanging out at the edge. Also, the bed sheets are pink. The wallpaper, too. Actually, everything in the room is pink. His stomach is bandaged, but the wound underneath seems as though it has already healed. As a matter of fact, aside from a headache and aching muscles, he feels fine. He also finds the two remaining pieces of his cape, washed and neatly folded next to his pillow.

"Morning," Katie greets him.

She is seated by his bedside, and wearing a clean, sundress. Pink, of course.

"Thanks for bandaging me up."

"Not sure you needed it," she responds, checking his dressing. "You were healin' faster than we could bandage you."

"Used to heal faster," Clark comments, as he gets up and sits next to her. "That gray skinned monster woman shouldn't have been a problem, but it almost killed me."

"Almost killed all of us," Katie remembers fearfully, and she again touches the bruises on her neck. "I just stood there like a scared idiot. Guess I'm nothin' like those fearless, indestructible heroines you see in those big budget movies."

"What, are you kidding me? You saved my life back there."

"Really? Can't imagine how."

"That thing was about to rip my throat open, until you distracted it."

Katie blushes. She looks away, and runs a finger over her ear.

"Cool," she says, still blushing. "I just saved Superman."

They share a laugh.

"What was that thing anyway?" she asks him.

Clark inhales, looks into the distance, and takes a second to think before answering her question.

"I think it's one of those things that is the opposite of what I am. I've been told that I am a creature of light. My powers come from the sun. I am stronger and heal faster during the daytime. That being was a creature of darkness. An abomination that dwells and hunts in the night, incapable of any form of emotion, and motivated only by an insatiable hunger. Some of these monsters are unable to enter a home without an invitation from the owners. I wondered why, with its great strength, it was unable to just force its way through your house."

"You mean there's more than one o' those things?! Scary. And you fought one o' them before, right? That's how you knew how to kill it."

"Nah, I just saw that in a Chloe Moretz movie."

"Oh, I saw that one! Good movie."

"Yeah."

"Bad ending, though. She was usin' small boys. Bitch shoulda' died."

Suddenly Marie bursts into the room, screaming.

"You trapped me in a room with that monster because of somethin' you saw in a goddamn movie?! You fucking almost killed me, you asshole! You super asshole! Super asshole is what they should be calling you! God will never forgive you for what you done to me, you super asshole! I hope you burn in hell for this! I hope you burn in hell, and Satan sticks a burning pitch fork right up your super-!"

9\. The Epilogue

Clark stays with the family for two more days to help with the repairs to the rest stop. Yes, the work took two days. He used to be able to do work like that in two seconds. But in those two days, he was able to enjoy good company and warm home cooked meals. They also provided him with a new S logo shirt to replace the one that got ripped. This one was gray, and had the more traditional red and yellow insignia. That's one advantage his new look has over his old one. The shirt's not as tough as Kryptonian battle armor, but it's easy to replace. There are S shirts everywhere. If he was getting royalties from it, he'd be richer than both Bruce and Lex combined!

Marie, it turns out, is a very good cook. She became nicer to Clark after he complimented her cooking. Although she still calls him an asshole. Katie is obviously taken with Clark. She's a sweet, young, and pretty country girl, and while Clark can admit to himself that he genuinely finds her attractive, he is also already in a very serious relationship. And Ma and Pa Kent didn't raise a cheater. Besides the League already has a womanizer. Two womanizers actually, if you count the space policeman.

Next morning, Clark is ready to hit the road again, and John walks him to the garage where his motorbike is waiting.

"Here," John says, handing him a small lunch box wrapped in cloth. "Marie made you a little somethin' for the road. Should last you quite a few days."

Clark accepts it, and carefully places the box in his green duffel bag.

"It's not poisoned," John adds.

Clark laughs.

"Thank her for me, please. And thanks for fixing my bike, too. I'll pay you back for it when I can. I promise."

"Aw, don't bother. You save people almost everyday. Don't be embarrassed when they do what they can to thank you for it. Just promise me you wont try to ride her too hard again next time."

"Ha! I've learned my lesson."

Clark hops on the bike, and is about to go when John somberly says, "I feel like I owe you an apology."

Clark stares at him curiously.

"For what?"

"For not lettin' you in. I knew what was out there. I knew that, for some reason, it couldn't get into the house, but I left you to fend for yourself. I was just too scared."

"John, I was scared. You saw that thing, right? It was scary. Looked like something from a Japanese horror movie. And if it weren't for your daughter, that scary thing would've killed me."

"Yeah, but you still saved us. You were scared. That thing could've killed you. And even after I refused to offer you sanctuary, you still saved us. Why?"

The answer to that one was easy. Clark didn't even need to think about it.

"Because I'm still Superman."

The End


End file.
